


Cheesy Lines and Lazy Days, Maximized

by summerwines



Series: No Sleep AU [2]
Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerwines/pseuds/summerwines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t mean to make Dipper hard, when he hugs him tight, when he presses his weight on Dipper’s body. [No Sleep AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheesy Lines and Lazy Days, Maximized

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet for neko! Who sent me a prompt: "I Didn't Mean to Turn You On" (from [this list of prompts](http://fantasticmrlc.tumblr.com/post/78542543579/story-meme)). You said you wanted Parapines, so voila--here it is. Hope you don't mind that it's No Sleep AU, heh heh.

Norman films Dipper wearing nothing but boxer shorts, red with polka dots. Dipper dances, to booming electronica – very, very indie. Norman giggles the whole way through. He watches Dipper point upwards and downwards, as the famous dance step goes. Dipper jumps around, and he has on a serious face. _Rock and roll_ , he goes, _I’m a fucking mercenary._

The camera continues to roll when Dipper jumps on Norman’s lap to smooch. The thing is set aside among the pillows while Norman gets tied in a hug and while he feels the dampness of Dipper’s back, drops of sweat like fallen rain. Norman gets hard, so hard, from Dipper’s lips, and Dipper notices, smiles, blushes. “Oops,” he says.

For Norman, today is a day for stalling. His professor in his specialized class on Horror Film had just warned them of a task about to come, and Norman is scared shitless, so he decides to delay his utter panic. He tries his best not to think about anything at all. He just wants to lie in bed, with Dipper, reading reportage on crime, thinking of how much he loves him, and all that shit. All in good fun.

“Can you psychoanalyze me?” Norman asks, while he lies with Dipper side by side on the bed, over the sheets, fully clothed.

“No,” Dipper says, still half-naked, eyes fixed on an Agatha Christie novel. “No can do.”

Norman tells him about that one time in his early teens when he thought he could run away and become a professional assassin. He did the research, and he looked for prospective clientele. Wearing sunglasses and a skull t-shirt, he asked around the ghosts in the street, if they knew anyone who would need his services. It was pretty ridiculous. He didn’t have any skill at all. Dipper tells him exactly that. “Ridiculous,” he says. “You don’t have the proper skillsets.”

“I know,” Norman says. “Plus my body’s too wiry.”

“Oh your body’s fine. It’s great, actually. Really fucking good—“ He breathes. “—But—Yeah—You’re too—Nice? To be an assassin? I guess? Though a lot of _nice_ people do turn out to be deranged killers. But, yeah, I know you. And, no.” Dipper looks at him. “You couldn’t kill a fly, Norman.”

“You’re right,” Norman says, feeling sad at the thought of turning flies into ghosts. “You are so right.” He smiles, though only slightly.

Dipper goes back to his book, and Norman goes back to nothing.

Norman whistles, and he wriggles his fingers.

“I’m bored,” he says, after a while.

Dipper replies with a noncommittal noise.

“I wonder—“ Norman goes, “How I would’ve turned out if you were there, in, well—“ He bites his lip.

“Go on,” Dipper says, flipping a page of his book.

“If you were there, in Blithe Hollow. With me, back then.”

“If we knew each other back then—“ Dipper flips another page and he sighs a light breath. “Well, it would’ve been great, I guess.”

“How? How would it be great?”

“How do you think?”

“I guess—I guess I would’ve been much happier.”

“Well, Norman, you’ve just answered your own question, haven’t you?” Dipper sets his book down to his chest. He turns his head, to Norman, and Norman smiles, small.

Dipper kisses his nose, and he tells him, “You ask such stupid questions sometimes.”

“I guess I’m just bored,” Norman says.

“It’s not every day we get to laze around, you know.” Dipper’s still looking at him, and their eyes are fixed on each other. “You should go out, with Neil or something. Don’t waste your time with me. Go have fun.”

“No, god, Dipper. Like you said, it’s not every day we get to laze around. So, yeah—“ Norman slides a hand on Dipper’s stomach; no big deal at all. He feels a slight tremble on Dipper’s stomach. “If you’re going to stay here, I’m staying too. I mean, I wanna—“

“ _I wanna be with you Dipper. I love you, Dipper. I wanna have your babies, Dipper._ ” Dipper makes fun of him, laughing, turning back to his book, “Jesus, Norm. You can stop with your cheesy lines. Stay, if you want to. Whatever.”

Norman frowns. “So I guess you’d like it better if I left?”

“No, of course not, you dick.” Again, Dipper meets his gaze. “I’d probably whine all day because you didn’t get my hidden message.”

“What hidden message?”

“That I never wanted you to leave in the first place.”

Norman grins. “You’re gonna make my dick hard, Dip.”

“Shut up.”

“What time is it?”

Dipper arches his eyebrow, looks at his watch, “2PM. Why?”

Norman grabs Dipper’s face and kisses his lips, hard, passionate. He runs his hands through Dipper’s hair, slips his tongue down Dipper’s throat, licks Dipper’s teeth. He feels heat and hardness come to life, in Dipper’s boxers.

“What was that for?” Dipper says, heaving, freckles flushed red as if burned by the sun.

“I dunno. Because it’s 2PM.”

“What’s with 2PM?’

“I dunno. Nothing, I guess.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“You’re hard.”

“Your fault.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you hard.” He kisses Dipper, again.

It’s 2PM, and then the long hand decides to make it 2:01. It is still completely appropriate to kiss Dipper’s mouth, bite his neck, and rub his stomach.

“You really think you would’ve liked me, when we were kids?” Norman asks him, a little breathless and a little flustered. He imagines walking with his head low in the streets of Blithe Hollow, and he thinks of Dipper being there at the end of the road, reading a book while he waited so he and Norman could walk to school together.

“Oh, c’mon.” Dipper heaves, exhausted, his head under Norman’s chin. “You must—You must know, by now, Norman. You must know that you’re pretty much my ideal.”

“Ideal? Really?”

“Well—Sort of. But, you get the point, don’t you?”

Norman hugs Dipper tight. “You love me?”

“Doi.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Norman knows, knew from the start, that he never has to worry about Dipper’s feelings, towards him. He knows, though he’s constantly trying to prove it. Later on, while Dipper’s busy going through his readings, Norman will think of some way to disturb him, just to tease him.

Maybe, he’ll talk non-stop about a film, or maybe he’ll just put the moves on him. Whatever those moves are. He’ll think of something, just to see what Dipper will say, and just to be acknowledged. It’s surprising, to Norman, that he’s actually thinking about this, that he’s actually letting himself be selfish.

He doesn’t mean to make Dipper hard, when he hugs him tight, when he presses his weight on Dipper’s body.

“You smell really good,” Dipper says, the words feeling all too familiar in Norman’s ears.

“I don’t mean to,” Norman says.

He wants to get naked, to get Dipper sweaty, on his back, legs up, ready for him. Dipper – he smells like socks, like a tired athlete. Norman knows he smells almost the same, all must and sweat, though apparently Dipper loves it, and Norman can tell, from the way he’s inhaling, heaving, tummy expanding.

“Fuck, shit,” Dipper mumbles. “I really wanna bite you.”

“Then—“ Norman takes Dipper’s cheeks to kiss him. “Go ahead—bite me.”

He’s bitten. Dipper then buries his nose in Norman’s hair, and he grabs fistfuls of Norman’s shirt. Norman swoons, and he gets hard again.

Still, to Norman, it’s surprising that he’s getting so brave, because he’s skipping work, and he’s being so selfish. When they fall asleep, he dreams about failing his next project, and he wakes up, eyes wide, at 8 in the evening, when his professor stamps an F on his forehead, in dreamlike fashion, deep voice booming, stamp burning hot like fire. He knows he won’t be lazing around for long. But still, he shuts his eyes tight, and he grumbles. “Fuck this,” he goes, because Dipper’s still wrapped around him, body hot, snore like a kitten’s. He takes a look at Dipper, and he plays with Dipper’s hair. Feeling satisfied, and feeling like he’s moved on from his little nightmare, Norman starts to fall back to sleep. This time, he wills himself not to dream.

 

**the end.**


End file.
